


Endorphin Rush

by elle_reads



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, F/M, Miscommunication, New York City, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 16:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20510276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle_reads/pseuds/elle_reads
Summary: Rey knows there are a lot of people who wouldn’t understand why she always seeks out someone she doesn’t know - Finn certainly doesn’t get it - but there’s something about doing what she does with a stranger, someone she’ll never see again - she rarely even learns their name - it gives her a high that can’t be matched.(First posted on Twitter, re-posted here for those who prefer AO3's format)





	Endorphin Rush

The plane touches down in JFK, and the moment the pilot gives them the all-clear, Rey turns her phone on. There it is, the message she’s been waiting for, but she sees immediately the news Amilyn sent isn’t what Rey hoped for. 

Rey is so grateful for Amilyn’s reminder—that this isn’t the end, not really, she still has a little time—but it’s hard not to feel discouraged. There’s nothing she can do now to change the situation, not really, but she needs a distraction or she’ll risk spiraling.

Fortunately, she has a tried and true method. Better yet, it costs nothing—at least the way she does it—it hurts no one, and it’s usually easy to find the right time, place, and person to do it with. There are a lot of people who wouldn’t understand why she always seeks out someone she doesn’t know—Finn certainly doesn’t get it—but there’s something about doing what she does with a stranger, someone she’ll never see again—she rarely even learns their name—it gives her a high that can’t be matched. Besides, she’s careful about who she approaches; she’d learned that lesson the hard way. Rey really doesn’t appreciate being yelled at, thank you very much.

She might have a fair shot on her train ride; she’d only had to spend one night in Chicago for the conference, so with all her things in her usual shoulder bag, it's not as if she has luggage to get in the way of making a connection. She’s fairly good at spotting someone who could use a pick-me-up—she has experience doing this after all—and in a crowd of weary travelers, her odds should be good.

She sees him immediately. He’s impossible to miss, really; he's seated, but it’s obvious he’s well over 6‘ tall, and—this ordinarily wouldn’t register, it’s not the point of what she wants to get out of this—but she can’t help but notice he’s wearing the hell out of that suit. With an expression that can’t be called anything other than a glower, though, it’s not a surprise no one’s sat next to him, but the potential there— it’s too good for Rey to pass by. 

She sits down next to him and gives him a smile—not one of those solidarity smiles, “What a hellspace the NYC Subway is, isn’t it?”, but an “I’m so glad you’re here sharing this moment in time with me; aren’t you glad, too?” sort of smile.

This next part is the hardest bit. Rey’s manners aren’t precisely polished, but overcoming the social pressure of staying silent on public transport is a challenge, even for her. Still, she thinks Tall, Dark, and Broody might be worth it.

“Hullo,” she ventures quietly—because you _really_ aren’t meant to talk on the subway, and what if this is a pet peeve of Mr. Gloomy’s?

He appears startled she’s spoken to him, but not unpleasantly so, she supposes, because he returns her greeting, albeit cautiously.

Brilliant. The approach is the only part she'd been worried about bolloxing up; now that the hardest part is over, she can take her time, let herself enjoy this.

She’s good at striking up conversation with strangers—after all, she’s had practice—but with him, it's especially easy. She finds herself getting lost in talking to him, and the stations quickly slip past. Even seated, he carries himself carefully; he must be aware of how threatening he could be if he weren’t restrained. She has the passing thought that she’d like to see him with the restraints off, but now isn’t the time to think that way. 

He has a wry sense of humor and her initial impression is that he’s confident—not overly so, but he’s clearly well-spoken, well-educated, successful. Why wouldn't he be confident? She quickly realizes, though, that her first impression was wrong; he's incredibly self-deprecating. At first, it’s funny, but it quickly becomes too much for her. She has to intervene.

“Seriously, that’s no way to talk about yourself. All that negativity is going to sink in and you’re going to start actually believing it!”

“You say that like it would be so terrible for me to recognize myself for what I am.”

“And that is?”

“A monster.”

He’s joking, isn’t he? Still, she’s not going to let that stand. Besides, it’s not really moving things in the direction she’s trying to take them. 

“C’mon now, that’s not funny. I want you to say something positive, something you like about yourself.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Um, okay. I...work hard?”

She can hear the question in his voice. This poor man. 

“And you like your work?” She tries to keep the skepticism out of her voice, but she doesn’t think she’s terribly successful.

He glances around. Good Lord. He must not enjoy what he does, but clearly, he feels he can’t even express discontent without worrying over who might be listening in.

“I hate it. I hate every moment I’m in the office. I hate waking up in the morning knowing I have to go in. I even hate the weekends for going by too quickly.” He sighs. “So I guess that means it doesn’t really count as an answer to your question.”

Rey’s heart goes out to him. “It’s not about what I think,” she reminds him. “I asked for something _you_ like about yourself.”

“I mean, it’s not all bad. There are reasons I’m still there. Well, one reason, anyway.” He looks chagrined. “I make a shit ton of money.”

Maybe he has crushing student loans. Ailing family members to take care of. Uses the money to support Planned Parenthood. Even if not, she can’t get distracted. She’s not going to see him after tonight anyway, and she wants to get this conversation back on the rails.

“Sure!” She definitely overplayed it, because the look he cuts her is skeptical at best. Alright, so that wasn’t believable. Sincerity then? “I mean, do you like how you use that money?”

His face crumples. “You’re really effective at making me feel shitty about myself, you know?”

Damn. This is going in pretty much the exact opposite of the direction she intended. “I'm so sorry, I’m an arse. Honestly, I—”

“Shit, no, _I’m_ sorry, that was supposed to be a joke. It’s not your fault I’m an awful person.”

“Okay, now that’s just not true!” Her response is too loud. The train has emptied out a bit, but a few commuters around them give her a sharp glance. Quieter, she says, “Plenty of people would have ignored me, or told me to stuff it. But you were kind, friendly.”

She’s locked her gaze so intently on his eyes that it takes a moment to realize that he’s blushing. How long has it been since he’s received a compliment?

“Now I insist.” She softens the words with a gentle smile. “Something you _genuinely_ like about yourself.”

“Okay.” He takes time to think. She studies him. He really does have a fascinating face.

“Ok, so I...I mess up a lot.” He holds up a hand before she can cut off this new bout of self-deprecation. “I promise I’ll get to the positive part.” He runs his fingers through his hair—it must be a bit of a nervous tic, because she realizes it’s not the first time he’s done it since she started trying to get him to say something positive about himself.

“I do, though, I mess things up, ruin them really. And it would be easier, much easier, probably, if I didn’t care, if I could let it go, let the past die.” He glances away. "But I can't."

"Even when I’m not doing anything to make it better, even when I don’t know where to start, I _wish_ that I did. And even though it's harder, even though it hurts, I think it's good. That’s something”-he takes a deep breath-“that’s something I like about myself. Because I think I'm a better person, for caring that it's broken, even if I don't know how to fix it."

She's not going to cry on the NYC Subway in front of this near-stranger, but god, she's going to come close.

There’s always a sense of intimacy when she does this, but with him—this is on another level. She swallows down her emotion. She wants to say this, and maybe he needs to hear it.

“I know I said my opinion didn’t matter, and that’s still true, but for what it’s worth, I think you’re right. Because it _ would _ hurt less if you didn’t care, but it takes a strong person to know that and care anyway. It’s a good choice, for something to like about yourself.” And is she really going to say the rest?

Damn it, she’s never going to see him again, and she thinks he might need to hear it.

“...and I know I don’t know you, but I think it’s something I’d like about you, too.”

He gives her a smile that she’s going to generously not call watery, mostly because she’s confident her own smile wouldn’t withstand much scrutiny at this particular moment.

“Thanks, London.”

She chuckles, grateful he’s lightened the tension. “Not from London.”

He just arches a brow. And, well, this hasn’t at all gone how she thought it would, so what can it hurt to go even further off-script? 

“My name is Rey.”

“Ben.” It fits, somehow. Sturdy, like him. 

“So tell me, Rey,” (and why does her name seem to sound different when he says it?), “what’s something you like about yourself?”

This, at least, is easy. “I’m strong.”

He glances at her body, and his brows furrow. Alright, that’s just rude.

“That’s not at all what I meant, but unless you fit in time for mixed martial arts whilst working at the job you loathe and loathing it, I could definitely take you.”

“But you’re so tiny!” (she’s not _that_ small) “and I’m so big!” (alright, yes, he’s a human tree).

She hums in agreement. “Yup. Which means you’d fall especially hard when I leveraged your height and weight against you.”

His eyes travel more slowly down her body this time, and, “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He huffs out a sound that she thinks might be as close as he gets to a laugh. “You’d probably have me on my back in under a minute.”

Did he mean for that to sound so...sexual? Or is she imagining the undertone? 

_Focus, Rey._ She gives him a wry grin. “When I said strong, I meant internal strength. Resilience.”

His face falls slightly. Why? “Have you had to be strong often, then?” 

Oh.

“More often than some, less often than others.” It’s not a real answer, and they both know it, but she can tell he’s going to let her get away with it. But she’s overcome with guilt. He’d been guttingly open with her; doesn’t she owe him at least a little honesty? 

“I found out earlier today that I didn’t get a visa through the H-1B lottery. I have another chance next year because I still have 13 months of work authorization left under STEM OPT, but if it doesn’t come through then, I’m not sure what I’ll do. There’s nothing for me in England. The U.S. is my home.” 

She hesitates to tell him this next bit, but the compulsion to be honest with him is still driving her forward.

“That’s actually why I approached you. It’s sort of...this thing I do, when I’m sad.”

“What?” She knew he’d be surprised. It is a bit unusual, but she hopes he’ll understand.

“Yeah, it’s just...you looked sort of sad? Maybe not sad, but upset? Definitely not happy. And when I’m sad, I like to find a stranger who’s unhappy too, and try to cheer them up.”

“So you just...you do this all the time?” Oh, it isn’t surprise, it’s anger. 

She’s not quite sure how to explain this to him. “I mean, yes and no?”

“Yes and no?” He’s nearly spluttering now. “How are you _not sure_ whether or not you habitually find sad strangers to sleep with when you’re sad?”

“WHAT?!” Her volume isn’t subway-appropriate, but really, WHAT?!

“Wait, what?” Her reaction has cut through his anger, but she doesn’t have much capacity for tracking his emotions when she’s overcome with shock. Is _that_ what he thought this was? Rey can admit he’s attractive, but— 

“I perform random acts of kindness for strangers!” She whisper-shouts, “I find someone who seems unhappy and then find a way to cheer them up!” she flares at him. “To be clear, I don’t. mean. SEX!” By the time she reaches the end of her tirade, she’s forgotten to whisper and, though she’s technically still seated, she’s somehow looming over Ben. People are looking at them.

“I...uh...that is, um, fair, and, uh, I, I owe you an apology.” Ben is floundering.

And Rey— well, she thought the blush that spread to his ears when she gave him a few words of basic kindness was adorable, but now, his chastened flush makes her feel sick. She can see, sort of, where he could have gotten the wrong impression. Besides, he hadn’t seemed to want to shame her over his assumption, after all. Maybe the anger she’d sensed was to cover his hurt. And that- well, that she could work with.

“You asked if I did this all the time, and I said yes and no—because yes, I do try to be kind every day.”

She smiles, maybe too earnestly, but she thinks he probably has a hard time believing he’s forgiven, believing he’s forgivable. 

“But Ben, I usually find out that someone’s in a hurry and let them take my place in line. I see they’re weary and help them carry their groceries or hold a door.

She gives a self-deprecating laugh. “My stop is Penn Station. Since I missed that about 20 minutes ago, I’m gonna call it a day and just go home.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“Not joking.” It’s going to be such a pain to transfer but they’re almost at the end of the line.

“My stop was Fifth Ave.”

She gapes. “But we’re well past—”

“I know.” He looks away, clearly embarrassed. She wishes he wasn’t.

“Ben?” He’s reluctant to make eye contact again, but he does. “About that apology? How about you buy me dinner?” His face, which has been so open since they started talking, is impenetrable now, and she loses courage. Where’s that strength she bragged about?

“I mean, I know you might have other plans tonight, which would be fine, I just thought maybe—”

“No, no,” he’s quick to jump in, and she is so grateful for the interruption, “I don’t have plans tonight. I’d love to buy you dinner.”

He smiles, and oh, there’s her courage again, because, “Great. It’s a date.”

And the smile he gives her then—well, it’s one of her favorites, even years from now, when she has countless memories of Ben’s smiles to choose from.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love it if you left a comment or said hi on Twitter; I'm [@elle_vee_reads](https://twitter.com/elle_vee_reads/)


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